Kind of Like a Family: Too Young Meets Too Old
by CaityMcAwesome
Summary: Tony was shocked to hear that his twin brother-the one he never talked about-had died, leaving him with an abused child to take care of. The child couldn't even bear to look at Tony, so Tony called the only man he knew who could be a father figure to the boy: Gibbs. Is Gibbs able to be everything that this abused young boy needs?
1. Chapter 1

Tony paced the hallway in front of his guest bedroom, listening to the cries of his nephew. He gave a wry laugh at the thought. Who would have ever thought that he would be an uncle? His brother hated children. His brother had _always _hated children. Clearly nothing had changed- the bruises on the boy's body proved as much. What Tony couldn't figure out was why Andrew had the boy in the first place.

His nephew's cries dulled into whimpers, but Tony was still restless. His instincts were screaming for him to go in and help lull the boy back to sleep, but he knew that it would only worsen the situation. His nephew, James, had been staying with him for about a week, and in that time, if Tony had learned nothing else, he _had _learned that James didn't like him.

Tony cursed Andrew under his breath for the umpteenth time. Identical only in looks, Tony was as different from his twin as it was possible to be. Where Tony was easy-going and friendly, Andrew was stubborn and cruel. Too many times in the past they had been mixed up by teachers or well-meaning neighbors and Tony had taken the heat for some heinous crime Andrew had committed. It was one of the reasons he didn't often mention that he had a brother. After all, it wasn't like he had any reason to: Andrew lived a thousand miles away, and they hadn't spoken a word to each other since high school. Tony never would have thought that Andrew would impact his life, but once again, Andrew had managed to impose.

He growled under his breath as his nephew gave a shuddering sob. It had been one thing to take Andrew's lickings when he threw a ball through a neighbor's car window or when their report cards got mixed up, but the fact that he couldn't comfort his own nephew because he _looked _like the abusive bastard made him want to put another round through Andrew's head.

Eventually, Tony heard the deep, even breathing that signaled James had finally dozed off. He wandered back to his own room, but sleep didn't claim him as easily. Ever since he had taken James in, the boy had suffered from nightmares. Tony didn't know if it was a result of Andrew's suicide, right in front of the child, or if the nightmares had been going on longer than that. He _did _know that they couldn't continue. Neither of them was sleeping, and although he was no psychologist, he was pretty sure that it wasn't healthy for the boy.

What was he supposed to do, though? James wouldn't let Tony anywhere near him, nor would he listen to a word that Tony said. Tony would be the first to admit that he didn't know how to take care of children. His father hadn't exactly been a role model, and he'd never babysat. Besides, he was pretty sure that he didn't have the disciplinarian gene in him. The thought had never concerned him before- he wasn't looking to settle down. Now, though…

He glanced at the clock, a sigh on his lips. He'd taken a couple of weeks off from work, using his copious amount of personal time in order to provide himself and James a period to adjust to one another. In a couple of days, though, he needed to be back at work. He would need to hire a babysitter, but he had been postponing it as long as he could. How could he, in good conscience, ask some teenager to take care of a seven year old who was, quite frankly, out of control?

Normally, he supposed, one would ask their parents about this kind of thing, but even if his parents had been alive, Tony knew that he could never have asked for their advice. He wished that he had someone he could lean on. After all, in his heart of hearts, he knew that his current arrangement wasn't working, and it would take more than a couple of weeks of adjustment period for him to get things under control, if he even _could _get things under control, which he seriously doubted. How could James ever trust him when he looked so much like Andrew? The last thing that Tony wanted was to put an abused child into the state system, where he could land in any home and be raised in any way. Where Tony might not see him ever again. James had been through enough upheaval in his life already. Unfortunately, if things continued the way they had been, it might be his only option. Tony wanted what was best for James, and clearly, he _wasn't _the best option.

He just wished that he knew where James was going. He wished that there was some guarantee that James would be living with someone who would care for him properly-someone who would be gentle with him, but someone who would discipline him, too. He wished that he could make sure James would be staying with someone like…

He sat up straight in his bed, his hazel eyes widening at a thought that had just come into his head. He was sure that he was going crazy, but something- perhaps a lack of sleep, perhaps an intense desperation- had him reaching for the phone anyway. He hit speed dial, not caring that it was three in the morning, not even thinking about it, really, and when a tired, gravely voice came on the other line, Tony spoke without thinking about the huge commitment he was begging.

"Boss? I need a favor."


	2. Chapter 2

The oatmeal James had been given was too thick. It stuck to his bowl, his spoon, his tongue, his throat, and eventually dropped heavily into the bottom of his stomach. He knew enough not to complain about it. He had learned early in his life not to complain about anything. It was safer to keep quiet.

Across the table, Uncle Tony was staring. Again. James tried not to look too closely. If he didn't look up at Uncle Tony, James could remind himself that Uncle Tony wasn't Daddy back from the dead. He was James' uncle, a completely different person. It wasn't so easy to tell himself that when he was looking at Uncle Tony. He couldn't see the difference, and Uncle Tony's eyes gave James the creeps. Hazel, just like Daddy's, but Uncle Tony's eyes had life to them. They sparkled when he laughed, and when he was thinking they went kind of soft. Daddy's had always been hard, and then, on that last day, right before they went all shiny, they softened. It was just for a second, but it was enough for James to know: Once upon a time, years ago, Daddy must have been nice. Did that mean that, years from now, Uncle Tony would be mean? Would James even see it coming, if that was the case? Maybe it would happen today, or tomorrow. Next week. He could never be certain. It made him nervous.

When he finished his oatmeal, James carried it to the sink and tried to wash it, but the soapy water made his hands slick and he dropped the dish. He watched it fall, his breath catching in his chest. It crashed against the linoleum floor, pieces of the ceramic bowl shooting in every direction. As if that wasn't bad enough, James saw that he'd chipped the corner of the linoleum tile. He imagined how much trouble _that _was going to cause him, and his breath began to come in short gasps. His ears roared. Uncle Tony stood up and walked towards him, and James thought that he might pass out.

He ran instead. He heard his uncle hollering after him, and it egged him on, faster and faster, toward the front door. He yanked the door open without another thought, bowling past a grey haired man who was coming up the drive, and heading for the woods. _Faster, faster, nowhere to hide_. His ears were roaring, his breath coming in shorter and shorter spurts. He was going to be sick. White smoke was infiltrating his vision. He was blind. He tried to scream, but the sound wouldn't come out. Suddenly, he felt very, very light, and then, he felt nothing at all.

"Easy now. Can you open your eyes?"

The voice sounded far away, and it took James a second to realize that it was directed towards him. He tried to answer, but his tongue was stuck in his mouth. Instead, he fought against heavy eyelids and opened his eyes. There were trees overhead, the sun glimmering through their leaves. Beside him, a man was crouching in the dirt, his expression serious but at the same time kind of soft. James noticed the blue eyes almost immediately. Bright blue eyes, framed by a chiseled face and salt-and-pepper hair.

"I ran past you in the driveway." His voice sounded dry. He frowned, swallowed, and tried to figure out how he ended up on the ground. Or was it the ground? He was all wet… After a minute, he realized his pajamas were soaked through with his own sweat. "What happened?"

"You fainted."

His mind clearing up by the minute, James had come to the conclusion as it was being told to him. It was an obvious solution, really. It had happened a couple of times before, although the doctors hadn't yet figured out why. He reached a hand up to rub between his eyebrows. He actually felt okay now. He decided to try sitting, and pushed himself up off the ground. The man next to him held an arm out as though to catch him if he fell, but it wasn't necessary.

"Where were you running off to, anyway?"

James frowned and then he shook his head. You weren't supposed to say that you were running away from home, ever. If you did, the government sent people to spy on you, and if you did something bad, like if you didn't make your bed right, they took you away to someplace where rats would eat all your fingers and toes while you slept.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"James," he whispered. "James Nuka DiNozzo."

The grey-haired man smiled, half of his mouth turning up. "I'm Gibbs."

James smiled, too. He'd never heard the name before, but it was kind of cool. Cool like Nuka, a name most people hadn't heard before. He liked that it made him kind of special.

"Can you stand up?"

James nodded and stood easily. He actually felt better than before he passed out, like his body had reset itself, but the memory of the panicky feeling he'd had when he went blind for a moment made him wary. He ran a hand through his hair, damp with sweat, and looked Gibbs over again. Obviously, Gibbs knew his uncle, or he wouldn't have been heading up the driveway. Did that make him safe to talk to, or was he still a stranger? He decided to be cautious, for now.

"We need to get you back to your uncle's house so you can get some water into you."

James wanted to tell Gibbs how mad Uncle Tony was going to be. He remembered one time, back home, when he broke a glass… Daddy hadn't been pleased. That was bad enough, but running away always made things worse. James knew it, and yet he continued to run when he got scared. _Stupid, stupid. _

"I'll take care of your uncle," Gibbs said.

James flinched as a hand came towards him, but it merely rested on his shoulder as he was steered out of the woods. Dimly, he realized that the hand was to tell him not to try running away again, because he'd get caught, but he wasn't dumb enough to do that twice in a row. His mind was racing. Would Uncle Tony thrash him the second he got home, or would he wait until after Gibbs left? And what had Gibbs meant when he said that he'd take care of Uncle Tony? Was Gibbs going to thrash Uncle Tony for losing him? That would get him in way more trouble! Who was this man, anyway? It couldn't be Uncle Tony's father- James knew he was dead.

By the time his uncle's house came into view, James was a bundle of nerves. Without thinking, he huddled closer and closer to Gibbs' legs, to the point that Gibbs was struggling to walk.

"Once we get inside, I want you to get yourself a glass of water, alright?" he heard Gibbs ask.

James nodded mutely. Now they were at the porch steps. He took one shuddering step, and then another… The door flew open, and his uncle came out, muscles tense, hair askew. James felt his heart lurch in his chest. He spun around, only to run smack into Gibbs' chest.

"None of that," Gibbs said, catching him around the stomach and pinning him to Gibbs' chest. James could feel his heart pounding, hard, and was sure that Gibbs strong arm, holding him tightly, could feel it, too. He couldn't help but choke back a sob. Uncle Tony had promised! He'd promised that he would never hurt James, but he'd lied. Everyone had lied to him, promising him that things would be different now.

"DiNozzo, control yourself!" The command was harsh. James froze, only to see that his uncle was freezing as well. James would have laughed- they were _both_ Dinozzo- but this was hardly a humorous situation. He felt Gibbs' chest move up and down slowly as though he was taking a deep breath and figuring out the situation.

"James, when I let you go I want you to march yourself straight into the kitchen and get a drink. Understand?"

James nodded, and he felt a weight suddenly off of his chest. He walked forward, giving his uncle a wide berth before darting into the kitchen towards where he knew the glasses were. He watched the water pour from the faucet, the cool, bubbly liquid filling his glass. When it was full, he turned the knob on the faucet again, and the tap shut off suddenly, leaving the house silent. He walked over to the table and sat, drinking the cool liquid slowly. It felt soothing in his throat.

Voices drifted in through the screen door. His uncle and Gibbs. He bit his lip, knowing that he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop. How was he going to avoid it, though? He had to drink his water at the table.

"…was just checking to make sure that he was alright."

"If I hadn't been there you'd have had him running for the woods again."

"It's not my fault he's so skittish!"

"Who's the adult here?"

"Not me! Ask anyone, I'm not an adult. I never have been. I didn't ask for this, Boss. I'm not the fatherly type. I don't know the first thing about kids, much less _abused_ kids."

"You'd do well to remember that _he _didn't ask for this, either."

Silence. "I didn't mean to scare him. I wasn't thinking about what it would look like to him; I was just worried."

"Well, keep yourself in check next time."

"Next time? I thought that-"

"Did you or did you not say that you wanted to continue to see him, in the hopes that he would eventually grow to realize that you aren't your brother."

"I did."

"Then there may very well be a next time, Tony, and you'd better handle it a lot better than you did today, because at that point you _will _have 'asked for this'. Am I clear?"

"Crystal."


	3. Chapter 3

He was moving again. It seemed to James that ever since his father had died, James hadn't stayed in one place for more than a week or two. The social workers told him that Uncle Tony's home was his final living place, but that was a lie, too. Now he was going to live with Gibbs, whom he'd found out was Uncle Tony's boss. Uncle Tony told him that had been decided even before the incident with the bowl, which he never did get in trouble for, but James wasn't so sure that was the truth.

He sat down on the bed he'd been sleeping on for the past week and a half, bunching the covers in his hands as he fought back tears. Why did he keep getting sent from place to place? Why wasn't he good enough for anyone? His throat felt tight and sore, and his eyes were itchy. He resisted the urge to scratch at them. His body shook with a silent sob, even as he recounted his every action since he'd come to live with Uncle Tony. He was always messing things up, crying when he wasn't supposed to or running away when he wasn't in trouble, but he didn't mean to be bad.

There was a knock on the door, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at the door curiously. Sometimes Daddy knocked on the bathroom door, but never on the bedroom door. It seemed very strange to him. After a moment, the knob turned and Uncle Tony poked his head into the bedroom.

"Can I come in?"

James nodded. He didn't understand why he was being asked. After all, it was Uncle Tony's bedroom, or guest room, or whatever. He watched his uncle slip into the room and come near. As Uncle Tony moved to sit on the foot of the bed, James slid backwards so that he was out of arms reach. He bit his lip, knowing that Uncle Tony didn't like it when he backed away, but also knowing that he couldn't help it.

"This isn't working," Uncle Tony said calmly. "I don't- I don't know how to be in charge. Can you understand that? I don't know to take care of you, how to make you feel safe. Gibbs is like a father to me. You'll like him."

What was he supposed to say to that? Was he supposed to agree or something? He didn't even know if being like a father was a good thing, although he _did _already like Gibbs. Maybe. He settled for remaining silent, watching his uncle sigh and run a hand through his hair.

"Are you packed?"

James nodded. It wasn't like he had a lot to pack, anyway. Everything he owned, including the new pajamas Uncle Tony had bought him his first night there, fit into one duffel bag. It was beneath the bed, ready to be pulled out when Gibbs came to get him in an hour.

He felt his uncle's eyes on him for a moment longer, and then the bed creaked as Uncle Tony stood and left the room. James watched after him with deadened eyes, too tired and confused to try to figure the man out.

"Where is he?" Gibbs asked the moment he walked in the door.

"In his bedroom," Tony said. "In the back."

"Have you talked to him?"

"I tried. He's unresponsive."

Gibbs sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee. He could already tell that he would need the fix. He took a sip, glancing casually around Tony's pristine kitchen. James would have a hard time coming to live with him. His house wasn't nearly as spacious as Tony's, and he was sure that James' father would have lived an equally grand lifestyle. Sighing, he downed the rest of his coffee and headed towards the room in the back of the house. Empty. When he saw the open window, he cursed under his breath. He had hoped that James' tendency to run had been a one-time thing, but it seemed that he wasn't going to be so lucky.

"DiNozzo!"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Don't get a dog."

It wasn't that hard to track him down. As an NCIS agent, following the trail left by a seven year old was almost too simple. The only thing Gibbs didn't like was the fact that James may have been an hour ahead of him and it was hard to figure out what kind of trouble he might have gotten himself into in that amount of time. Therefore, when Gibbs found him only half a mile away, huddled on a park bench, he understood Tony's excited shouting earlier in the day. He wanted to do the same thing. Instead, he took a deep breath before approaching the boy at a calm pace, almost as though he had wandered upon him accidentally.

"Running away is becoming a habit of yours," Gibbs commented, sitting down on the same bench as the boy, although far enough away that James wouldn't spook. Despite the precaution, James didn't respond to him. "Why'd you stop running?"

James shrugged, pulling absently on his pant legs and refusing to make eye contact. Gibbs waited patiently, taking the time to look the boy over properly. He was tiny and pale. There was a little bit of Tony in him, in the nose and the eyes, but Gibbs figured that James must look a lot like his mother.

"Are you mad at me?"

Gibbs swallowed, tempering his tone. "No."

"Are you going to send me away now?"

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

The boy shrugged again, but Gibbs could tell from the tenseness of James' jaw that he'd hit a nerve.

"Is that why you think you're moving in with me? Because you ran away from your uncle earlier?"

James shifted uncomfortably, but then he nodded. "Daddy always said that when I ran away from him, I was saying that I didn't want to stay with him any more. Sometimes I didn't want to stay with him any more, so I'd run away, only… It didn't work. He always came to get me. And then, that day, I ran really, really far, and he didn't come. I got scared. It was cold, and even though he was going to be mad, I wanted to go home. I thought I ran too far away and he couldn't find me, so I went back home. I wasn't lost, but it took me a long time to get there. Daddy was in the living room. He saw me, and he said that I finally got my wish, and then he-"

"It wasn't your fault."

"I ran away from the police who found me, and from the foster home they put me in. I ran away from Uncle Tony."

"And then you ran away from me, thinking I would send you off to someone else." It was not a question.

"Are you going to?"

"No," Gibbs sighed, looking the boy over. "No, you're staying with me."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You mean they way you sometimes didn't want to stay with your father?"

"Sometimes he'd get mad at me, and he'd… But he didn't mean it. I got scared, sometimes, and I thought that I didn't want him there. I didn't mean it, either."

"Your father was a grown-up," Gibbs said quietly. "He was old enough know better."

"I knew I wasn't supposed to run away. Sometimes I forgot."

"And sometimes, you did it on purpose," Gibbs said. "Like today."

James turned his head away. He didn't see Gibbs reaching a hand out, didn't have time to flinch, but he felt it resting lightly on the back of his neck. Not mad. He looked over.

"Sometimes, like when you ran away from your father, it was because you wanted to get away," Gibbs said, "and other times, it's because you want to start over."

"Start over?"

"You're a smart kid," Gibbs said. "I think part of you is scared that people will know too much about how you behaved before. You want to let that part of your life go."

"Daddy said there's records of everything I've ever done wrong," James said. "That's how Santa Clause knows whether or not to give us presents."

Gibbs laughed. "Smart man. You don't like thinking about the records, though?"

"I did a lot of things wrong. I don't want you to know about it."

Gibbs nodded. "I can understand that. It's pretty scary, thinking that someone knows everything about you."

James shrugged, but Gibbs knew that he had him. "You lost a lot in these past couple of weeks. I can understand you not wanting to lose your secrets as well. You don't have to, though. I haven't looked at those files yet. If you want, I won't look at them. You can start fresh."

James frowned at him. "What's the catch?"

Gibbs laughed. "You're smarter than your uncle, you know that? He'd have agreed first, and then realized there was catch."

James grinned. "I'm the smartest kid in my class."

"I believe that. Alright, here's what I want in return. No more cross-country hide and seek."

"What?"

"I don't mind you running away if you get scared. Good instinct, actually. I'd do the same thing. On the other hand, I'm too old to be running after you every time you want to make sure that I will. If you're afraid that I won't take care of you, or that I'm going to leave you, you come talk to me. Got it?"

James nodded his head up and down once, and then he got a sly look on his face. "Shouldn't I have a new name?"

Gibbs laughed. "A new name?"

"Yeah, you know, like in those old movies. Kid gets a new life, and he gets a new name, or a nickname, or something like that."

"Ah. You _are _related to Tony."

"Huh?"

"What kind of new name were you thinking of?"

"Well, I was thinking maybe instead of going by my first name, I could go by my middle name."

"Your middle name?"

"Nuka," he grinned. "Nuka DiNozzo. Sounds cool, right?"

"Sounds very… cool."

"So can I?"

"No more hide-and-seek?"

The boy frowned suspiciously. "You won't look at my files?"

"I won't look at your personal files," Gibbs clarified. "I'll look at your medical files and school records, but those aren't secrets. They're just things I need to know to take care of you- what shots you've had and what grades you've gotten, that kind of thing."

The boy nodded. "Alright. I won't run away any more, unless I'm scared."

Gibbs smiled, standing and brushing off the seat of his pants. "Nuka Dinozzo… Come on."


	4. Chapter 4

Gibbs noticed the limp right away. He put a hand on his charge's shoulder, halting his movements. "You're hurt."

The boy pulled uncertainly on a lock of black hair and didn't respond. Gibbs sighed. He wasn't sure that he could get used to that silence. It wasn't natural for someone so young to be so afraid of speaking. Harder still because when you looked closely, you could see Tony's features on the child. No one who looked like DiNozzo should be able to remain so silent.

Gibbs gestured impatiently at the sidewalk. "Sit. Let me see."

Nuka sat down, but when Gibbs reached a hand out to push the pant leg away, he shot away from him like a frightened squirrel, eyes narrowing. Gibbs sighed, wondering what the boy had been through to make him so skittish. "I was trying to see your injury."

"Uncle Tony already put stuff on it. It just hasn't finished working yet."

"Tony knew you were injured?" He couldn't believe he hadn't been told before he left the house. He would have brought an ice pack.

"Yeah," Nuka gave him a suspicious look. "Of course he knew. _Everyone _knows."

"Everyone knows?"

"Mhmm. It's how come they started asking me questions about Daddy and how he treated me."

Gibbs frowned. "Wait, so you've had the injury for a while?"

"I got it the day Daddy died."

That didn't make any sense. "You weren't limping earlier."

Nuka frowned. "Limping? Why would I… Oh! You're talking about my leg!"

"Ya think? What are you talking about?"

"My back," Nuka shrugged. "My leg's not that bad. I stepped on an old log and it broke. It just hurts 'cause it's recent."

Gibbs looked at the leg more carefully. Now he could see tears in the jeans and… Was that dark stain _blood_? "Can you roll up your pant leg so I can take a look?"

Nuka looked at Gibbs like he had two heads, but he carefully pulled the pant leg up. Three long cuts ran raggedly up Nuka's right leg, red with blood. They were shallow, but even still Gibbs knew they must be hurting wildly. Whatever had happened to Nuka's back must be fierce if this seemed mild in comparison.

"Why didn't you tell me you'd hurt your leg?"

"It's not a big deal. I'm not a baby."

"Rule number six, Nuka."

"Rule number six?"

"Always mention an injury, even if it doesn't seem important."

Nuka made a face. "My leg hurts."

"No kidding."

Where the hell was Ducky? Gibbs scowled as he shut his cell for the third time. It wasn't like Ducky to not have a phone on him. It wasn't like any of his team, quite frankly. They learned Rule Number Three early- Never Be Unreachable. One of the most important things in their line of work was to know where the team was at all times. Of course, Nuka's leg wasn't seriously injured. Gibbs knew that. It didn't make him any less frustrated that Ducky wasn't available right now.

He glanced into his rearview window. Nuka was sleeping, head against the window. Gibbs frowned. DiNozzo had said that Nuka was having nightmares, but in Gibbs' mind that hadn't translated to the boy passing out two minutes after getting in the car. Sighing, he hit his blinker and turned towards headquarters. With any luck, Gerald would be there. Maybe he could say what happened to Ducky as well.

Five minutes later, Gibbs was rousing a groggy Nuka and helping him out of the car. Nuka had made it clear back in the park that he didn't want to be carried, so Gibbs walked slowly and allowed himself to be made into a human crutch. Even that was a bit too much contact for the boy. Every few steps he'd stop, take his hand away, and breathe slowly in and out as though just walking with Gibbs was hard for him. It took a while to make it down to autopsy.

Gerald was sitting on one of the autopsy tables, listening to his ipod, when Gibbs walked in. Gerald looked up, surprised. "I thought you taken the day off?"

"I did. I'm off the clock," Gibbs nodded at Nuka. "He cut his leg. Can you look at it?"

Gerald laughed. "Well, I've only been dealing with dead guys up until now, but yeah. I don't think it will be a problem. Hop up on the table, uh-"

"Nuka," Gibbs supplied when it looked like Nuka wasn't about to. He helped Nuka up onto the autopsy table.

"Alright, Gerald, check his leg and his back. Apparently there's an injury there as well. Bring him up to me when you're done."

"Wait, where are you-"

"Abby's lab."

The music playing in the lab was, if possible, even more obnoxious than usual. Abby was clearly not expecting Gibbs to pay her a visit- or anyone, for that matter. She had discarded her usual lab coat and was standing on a chair, dancing with her arms in the air so that her shirt exposed her midriff, singing at the top of her lungs.

"Abby!"

Growling under his breath, he pushed the power button on her stereo. Abby froze, dropped her arms, and turned around. When she saw him, she smiled a bit sheepishly. "Uh, hey, Gibbs. It's not what you think…"

"Just tell me that you managed to find a match on the print Kate gave you."

"I found a match on the print Kate gave me," Abby hopped off of the chair and made her way over to a computer screen, typing furiously. "Petty Officer Kurt Richards. Thirty-two years old, married, no children, and no criminal record aside from a couple of speeding tickets. I also managed to get a hit on the plant found in our dead Petty Officer's boot. Apparently, it's a type of seaweed found generally in small creeks. There was also some salt water residue that suggests that his foot, at least, has been under water recently."

Gibbs smiled. "That's good work, Abby. You show all that to Agent Todd?"

"Actually, I showed it to DiNozzo. Is that not right? I just figured that since he'd been here longer…"

Gibbs waved her off. "When did Tony get back to work?"

"He stopped in a few minutes before you did to say that he was in and to ask what I had."

"That's fine, then. Just didn't realize he was back on duty."

"Agent Gibbs?"

He turned around to see Gerald, looking more grim than usual. Nuka was clutching onto his arm for support, as though he was having a hard time standing up. Gibbs walked over, helping Nuka to the chair Abby had just vacated.

"What'd you find, Gerald?"

"Um…" Gerald looked from Nuka to Abby. "Can I talk to you outside?"

"Nuka, stay with Abby. Abby, this is Nuka."

"Family?"

"Something like that."

Satisfied that Nuka was secure, for now, Gibbs followed Gerald into the hallway beyond and shut the door behind him. He turned, arms over his chest, eyebrow cocked in invitation. Gerald shifted nervously.

"What's your connection to Nuka, sir?"

"Is that relevant to you telling me what's wrong with him?"

Gerald swallowed hard. "I cleaned up the cuts on his leg. They were long but fairly shallow- no stitches needed or anything. I put antiseptic on and wrapped the leg in bandage. He should keep weight off of it for a while, if he can, but it's not serious. The injury on his back is a large black and blue bruise extending from his hip almost to his shoulder blade. He won't tell me how he got it, but considering the scars beneath it, I had a suspicion that I checked up on. There were some bruises on his forearms as well. My guess is that someone grabbed the kid and shoved him up against a wall. Hard."

Gibbs winced, glancing over his shoulder. He could see Nuka through a pane of glass at the top of Abby's door. She'd managed to break him out of his shell somewhat; he was waving his arms above his head in a small imitation of the dance she'd been doing before.

"Tell me about the scars on his back."

"There were a lot of them, ranging from a couple of millimeters thick to a couple of inches thick, crisscrossing up and down his back, and probably lower. I didn't check his whole body, he seemed uncomfortable enough taking his shirt off."

"Cause?"

"He didn't say," Gerald winced at Gibbs' look. "I'd say he's been beaten, though, many times over, with various implements."

Gibbs growled. Tony had mentioned that Nuka had been abused, but he hadn't gone into detail. If what Gerald was saying was true, there was no way DiNozzo didn't know. Nuka himself had said that Tony had been helping him with his back problem. He shook his head, figuring that having been called at three in the morning, he was lucky to have heard Nuka had been abused at all, and turned back to Gerald. "What do you think I should do about his back?"

"Nothing to do about the scarring, I'm afraid," Gerald said, "Although they may fade over time. As for the bruise, I have a cream you should put on it every four hours or so, and I'd keep him on ibuprofen for a couple of days, if you can."

Gibbs nodded. "Thank you, Gerald. You've been a huge help."

He pushed open the door to Abby's lab and flipped the music back off. Now both Abby and Nuka were looking at him like he was the boogeyman. "Nuka and I are heading out. I'll be back in tomorrow, but if you need me- 911 need me- call me on my cell."

Abby gave a mock salute. "Got it, boss!"

Gibbs held a hand out to Nuka and helped him down the hall to the elevator. Nuka stared at the elevator when it opened, his mouth working silently. He didn't move to get in.

"What's wrong?"

"Do we have to take the elevator?"

"I can't see you taking the stairs with your leg like that." Gibbs frowned at him. "You took the elevator to get here."

"Gerald helped me up the stairs."

They hadn't taken the elevator to get to autopsy, either. Nuka had asked to ride the banister down. He'd said that he'd seen it in movies and had always wanted to try. Gibbs hadn't had the heart to say no. Now, he suspected the ride had served a different purpose.

"You don't like elevators?"

Nuka shook his head slowly. He was biting on his lower lip. Gibbs reached a hand out and slowly pried the lip from Nuka's teeth, wondering if it was a fear of the elevator itself or of all small spaces in general.

"What don't you like about them?"

Nuka shook his head and took a step back. "I don't like them."

"Fair enough." He crouched down so that he was at eye level with Nuka. "We have a problem, though. _I _don't like the idea of you walking up the stairs with your leg the way it is. Gerald said you shouldn't put any weight on it."

"Well maybe…" Nuka shook his head. "Never mind."

"Rule number 5. Never start to say something if you're not going to finish it."

"Where do you come up with these rules?"

"They're from when I was working in the marines."

"You were a marine? Cool!"

Gibbs laughed. "Very. What were you going to say?"

"I was going to say… Maybe you could give me a piggy back. Daddy never gave me one, but Uncle Tony did once." He looked Gibbs up and down. "But maybe not."

"You think I can't give you a piggy back?"

Nuka blushed. "Well, I mean… When you get older, it's harder, and…"

"You saying I'm old?"

"No!"

"Alright, then." He turned around and crouched a little lower. "Hop on, and don't jar your leg."

He expected that there would be some hesitation on Nuka's part, and was surprised when he felt two small hands on his shoulders almost immediately. He tried not to move around too much as arms hesitantly wrapped around his neck and Nuka pulled himself up onto Gibbs' shoulders. Nuka moved slowly, carefully, as though afraid that Gibbs would change his mind, but at long last he was settled.

"Ready?"

"Yes, sir."

Gibbs laughed. "Don't 'sir' me."


	5. Chapter 5

"Ready to see your room?"

"M-my room?" He'd had a room at Uncle Tony's that he slept in, but it had never really felt like his. It had always felt like Uncle Tony's guest room. "Is it your guest room?"

"Nope," Gibbs tightened his grip on Nuka's right leg as he stooped to make it through the arch into the upstairs corridor. He'd found that he liked carrying Nuka around like this. It kept the weight off of Nuka's leg without making the boy feel like he was being babied. Beyond that, though, Gibbs liked the fact that it allowed him to touch Nuka. DiNozzo had mentioned that Nuka was nervous about physical contact, but Gibbs had studied psychology enough (and listened to Ducky enough) to know that physical contact was important to kids. Hopefully, the piggyback ride would help Nuka become more comfortable with that kind of thing.

Gibbs paused outside the closed door to Nuka's bedroom, a little curious as to how Nuka would react to it. He'd actually put some effort into making the room feel friendly. Where the rest of his house was sparsely furnished and conservative, he'd bought some furniture for Nuka's room that he thought was more child-friendly.

"What did the room used to be?"

Gibbs sighed. He wished that Nuka wouldn't go on about that. He was too young to act like he was worried about being a burden or something. "It used to be an office."

"What happened to the stuff that was in the office?"

"I moved it down to the basement."

"What was in the basement?"

"A boat."

"What happened to the boat?"

"Nothing. I just did a little rearranging. Do you want to see your room or not?"

"Yeah." There was a hesitant sort of excitement in Nuka's voice.

Gibbs nodded, pushing open the bedroom door and stepping in. He hadn't had time to paint since last night, of course, so the walls were still the steady marine blue of his office, but he had pulled some yellow curtains out of the attic which served to lighten the room. He'd had to buy a bed for Nuka, and, after contemplating between a sturdy plastic one and a more sophisticated wooden one, he had settled on the wood. This he had painted yellow with blue spots on it. It had dried just in time for him to put the mattress on before going to get Nuka that afternoon.

Across from the bed, beneath the window, was the desk Gibbs had used in his office, also painted yellow, with a blue wing-backed chair in front of it. He'd pulled a bright red bean-bag chair Abby had given him for Christmas a few years back out of the living room and set it in the corner of Nuka's bedroom.

"You can put your clothes in the drawer beneath your bed," Gibbs said, pointing, "or in the closet. I'm working on a toy chest for you, but for now you can put your play things—neatly—at the foot of your bed. And we can see about getting you a bookshelf this weekend, perhaps."

"Yes, sir."

Gibbs tapped Nuka's foot. "What'd I say about calling me sir."

"Not to. Sorry."

Gibbs laughed. "Why so quiet, Nuka? Do you like it?"

"Yes!" Nuka pulled on Gibbs' hair in emphasis. "It's amazing. I've never… Are you really making me a toy box?"

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true."

"That's amazing!" Nuka paused for a moment. "Only… I haven't got anything to put in it."

Gibbs swallowed. Hard. "Well, we'll have to fix that, won't we? We'll pick some toys up for you this weekend." Gibbs crouched in front of Nuka's bed, allowing the boy to fall onto the mattress. "You picky about food?"

"No, si—er, Gibbs."

"Allergic to anything?"

"No."

"Alright. I'm going to start dinner. Unpack your things, put them away neatly, and come downstairs. If you can slide down the banister without falling, you're welcome to. Otherwise, I'll come get you in half an hour."

Twenty-seven minutes later, Nuka placed both his hands on the banister of the stairs and hoisted himself up onto it. Biting his lower lip—it was more frightening to do this without someone at the bottom of the stairs to catch him—he carefully pushed off and began to slide down the banister. But he was going fast, too fast, and when he sailed off the end of the banister and tried to catch himself on his good leg, it didn't work out. He put the other foot down for balance and pain shot through him with gusto. He cried out, and then quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. Gibbs was going to kill him!

His eyes darted toward the kitchen. He could hear hurried footsteps coming in his direction. His heart drummed a heavy cadence in his chest. He had to get away! He ducked around the side of the staircase and saw an open door. He sidled through it, trying not to move it so Gibbs wouldn't know where he'd gone, and pressed himself against the wall so his shadow wouldn't show.

Gibbs came into view a moment later. Nuka could see him through the crack in the door, although he was fairly confident that he was hidden in the shadows. He tried to gauge from Gibbs' face how mad he was, but it was hard. Gibbs's eyes were a little crinkled around the edges and his mouth was turned down, but he didn't look really, really mad. Yet.

"Nuka? Where are you?"

Nuka closed his eyes. He would get in trouble if he didn't answer. He knew that Gibbs would find him eventually. Somehow, though, he couldn't get his mouth to work. He didn't want to be in trouble yet. He wanted to pretend that he was still going to get a toy box full of toys.

"Nuka James DiNozzo, to me, now!" Gibbs said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Nuka swallowed and then pushed open the door he was hiding behind, stepping into sight. He held his body tightly, trying to stay as small and unimposing as possible, though he knew it wouldn't help. He was in trouble. He couldn't help it! He always got into trouble, no matter how hard he tried to be good.

"You hit your leg when you slid down the banister."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, _Gibbs_. What did I tell you about the sliding down the banister?"

Nuka ducked his head. Why were they going over this? "You said to only go down it if I could do it without hurting my leg."

"And what were you supposed to do if you couldn't?"

"Wait for you to come get me."

Gibbs crossed his arms over his chest. "So why didn't you?"

"I thought I could slide down by myself. I didn't think I'd get hurt."

"No? When did you know that you weren't going to be able to do it?" When Nuka opened his mouth to reply, Gibbs held up a finger. "The truth, please."

Nuka bit his lip and thought about it for a moment. "I didn't know for sure until I landed on my good leg and couldn't stay up… But I was scared of going down without someone to catch me before I ever got on the banister."

Gibbs nodded at the distinction. "From now on, I want you to think things through more carefully. When you're scared, that's your body's way of telling you that there is a potential danger and you need to think things through especially carefully before acting. Got it?"

Nuka nodded, rubbing his palm across his forehead.

"Alright, sit on the floor so I can see if you've managed to hurt your leg any worse."

Nuka chewed lightly on his lower lip but sat as instructed. He had no need to anger Gibbs further. Gibbs stepped forward and crouched down beside him, and Nuka felt himself instantly holding himself more stiffly. Gibbs carefully pulled up Nuka's pant leg. He ran a calloused thumb lightly up Nuka's leg and then nodded, seemingly in satisfaction.

"Good. Let's go eat."

Nuka looked up sharply. "Am I in trouble?"

"Not any more."

Nuka was more confused at those words. "I was, though?"

"I don't know that 'in trouble' is the right phrase, necessarily. I was irritated. In any case, we have discussed the situation. It's over now."


	6. Chapter 6

Nuka stared numbly at the food that Gibbs had put in front of him. It smelled really good, way better than anything he'd gotten at Uncle Tony's or at the social worker's. Gibbs had cooked steak tenderloin, with peas, pearl onions, and grilled carrots. Nuka could feel his saliva gathering in his mouth, but he couldn't bring himself to eat. He kept stealing covert glances at Gibbs, trying to figure the man out. Why hadn't he yelled at Nuka, at the very least, for disobeying? And what did he mean when he said "it's over now?" None of it made the least bit of sense to Nuka.

"I thought you said you weren't picky," Gibbs said. He sounded irritated. Nuka swallowed, hard. He hadn't meant to make Gibbs madder tonight.

"I'm not picky," he said quietly. "Dinner looks delicious."

Gibbs grunted. "You're not eating it."

Nuka was tempted to say that he wasn't hungry, but that wasn't really true. He was hungry. He was really hungry. Living with Uncle Tony, he'd eaten so much pizza that he thought he'd be sick. The idea of a real home-cooked meal was inviting, and the meal looked good… But he couldn't eat it, not when he still didn't know what Gibbs mean by him not being in trouble any more. How could he get himself out of trouble that quickly? It wasn't like he'd done anything real good after being bad. He hadn't done anything at all.

It felt like a trick.

That was the problem. It felt like the time that he'd let his father's favorite movie get eaten by the VCR. His father had pretended that it was okay and Nuka wasn't in trouble. That afternoon, a lady in a suit had come by and walked around their house and asked Nuka a bunch of questions about his life with his father. It wasn't until she left that his father punished him for breaking the movie. Nuka swallowed. This felt exactly like that, and he didn't like it. He hated waiting for a punishment, and he really hated the fact that Gibbs lied and told him he wasn't in trouble any more.

Gibbs sighed and leaned forward. "Nuka, you haven't touched a bite of your food. Why's that?"

Because, Nuka thought, getting sent to bed without supper was normal punishment. He'd read about it in books. Sometimes, back home, if he came up with an appropriate punishment for himself, his father would deal with him that way. It was better, because at least Nuka knew what was going to happen.

Gibbs tapped the tabletop with his index finger. "An answer, please."

Nuka ducked his head. He didn't know how to express himself. He didn't know Gibbs well enough to explain it all. He chewed lightly on his lower lip and quietly offered, "I'm sorry."

"Nuka, if you don't like the food, that's fine. Just tell me what you like."

"I like steak," Nuka whispered. It was one of his favorite foods. He could feel tears beginning to well in his eyes.

"So why aren't you eating?" Nuka could tell from Gibbs' tone of voice that he was irritated. Nuka's hands gripped tightly to the edge of his chair as he waited for the inevitable explosion. When it didn't happen, he looked up, quickly, through his bangs. Gibbs' eyes were on him, watching him. Waiting, Nuka realized, for an answer.

Nuka swallowed hard. "I was bad."

Gibbs' eyebrow raised a little higher in the air. "Oh? When was this?"

"Earlier. When I slid down the banister. I should have waited for you."

"We discussed this already."

"I know." Nuka shut his eyes tightly, "but nothing happened, and…"

"Oh, for heaven's sakes!" Gibbs growled. "Are you punishing yourself? Denying yourself dinner because you think it will make me happy, in some sick way."

"You didn't punish me!" Nuka protested. "I didn't know what to do!"

"There was nothing to punish you for."

"I disobeyed you."

"And we talked about it. I told you that the matter was resolved."

"That's stupid! You can't resolve a matter by talking about it!"

Gibbs ran a hand through his hair. He looked like he was really, really mad and was trying to hold it in. Nuka slipped off his chair and stood to the side, ready to bolt if the situation warranted it.

"Sit down, Nuka," Gibbs said quietly, "I'm not about to hurt you."

Nuka eyed Gibbs warily. "Are you mad?"

"We'll discuss it after dinner."

Nuka's stomach twisted uncomfortably. He chewed his lower lip nervously.

"Sit down," Gibbs repeated. "I'm _not_ mad, but I _will_ be if you don't sit down and eat some dinner."

Nuka took a careful step forward, his eyes on Gibbs the whole time. When the man didn't move, he sat down quickly. He stared at his plate for a moment, and then slowly picked up his fork. He stabbed a carrot and brought it to his mouth. Put it in. Chewed. Gibbs nodded at him but didn't say a word, and Nuka felt himself relax marginally. Gibbs said they'd deal with the situation after dinner, which meant that Nuka was safe as long as he was eating.

He ate slowly.

When he was finished, Gibbs reached out in front of him. Nuka shied away from the touch, but Gibbs merely took his plate from the table and left the room. Nuka wrapped his arms about his middle. He felt abandoned. Gibbs had said they would fix things after dinner. It was after dinner. Why weren't they doing something?

Gibbs came back into the room. He looked tired, Nuka noted. Really tired. Usually that was a good thing when it was time to be punished. Tired people weren't as creative. This first time, though, Nuka would have preferred it if Gibbs was in his prime. He wanted to know what the worst he could expect was.

"Hop onto my back," Gibbs said. "We're going to talk about this upstairs in your room."

"How come?"

"Because you like your room," Gibbs said, "Or at least you seemed to. Hopefully you'll be able to relax a bit more in there."

That seemed like a stupid statement to Nuka. How could he possibly relax when he was about to be punished? He didn't dare question the matter further, though, for fear of further angering his guardian. He climbed obediently onto the man's back and rode piggy-back upstairs to his room, where he was gently deposited onto his bed. He scooted himself to the far end of the bed, wrapping his arms about his knees. Gibbs looked at him for a moment, then carefully stepped away and sat in the chair in front of the desk. They sat for a moment, watching each other. Nuka hated the tenseness of the silence.

"I'm sorry," he offered at last.

Gibbs sighed. "What for?"

Nuka swallowed. "For disobeying you."

Gibbs shook his head. "That's the problem. I'm not even upset about the incident with the stairs. I'm upset about what happened after."

After? Nuka frowned, scanning his mind. When he realized what Gibbs was really upset about, he felt like an idiot. "It was an instinct! I didn't mean to run away, I'm just used to doing that. I'm really, really sorry!"

Gibbs frowned for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not talking about you hiding. I did tell you that you were allowed to run when you were scared. I was actually quite impressed that you came back when I told you to."

"You were?"

"Yes, I was. You'd never been around me when I was upset before and you were still willing to come out and deal with the situation. That was brave of you."

Nuka swallowed. That hadn't felt very brave. "But, then, I don't get it. If you're not mad about that, and you're not mad about the stairs, why are you mad?"

Gibbs shook his head again. "I'm not _mad, _Nuka. I promise you, I possess more emotions than 'happy' and 'mad'. I'm _upset_."

"How come?"

"Do you remember what you said at dinner?" Gibbs asked. "When you said that it was stupid to think that you could resolve a matter by talking."

"Yes." Nuka scratched his arm nervously.

"Well, I'm upset because the way I grew up, talking about things was the only way to resolve a matter. So, you see, when you said that you couldn't resolve a matter that way, it made me upset, because I don't know how else to resolve a matter."

Nuka's eyebrows furrowed. "What, you mean you're only ever going to _talk _to me when I do something bad."

"That's not what I said," Gibbs replied. "I said that I believed that talking was the only way to _fix_ the problem. I didn't say that was the only thing that I would ever do."

"I don't get it."

"Let me explain… When you were downstairs and you wouldn't eat your dinner, I was upset. Now, I could have punished you for not eating dinner, but what would that have accomplished? You would very likely have been angry because in your mind, not eating dinner _was _a punishment, and I would have been angry because I wouldn't know why you weren't eating in the first place. When we talked about it, however, and I realized that you weren't eating because you thought you needed to be punished, I understood your reasoning, and no longer felt angry with you. I could also tell you that I required you to eat, and that you were not allowed to punish yourself in such a manner. So, you ate your dinner, which is what I wanted, and quite probably what you wanted as well, and you told me that I needed to explain my reasons for not punishing you better than I had."

Nuka cocked his head to the side. That made sense, sort of, in a weird way. It was different than how his Daddy dealt with things. He understood how talking helped make things clearer for both of them, but he still didn't understand why he didn't get punished, too. "But I still disobeyed. Even if I had good reasons, I disobeyed you. I should get punished for that."

"That's not how that works," Gibbs said. "At least not in this house."

"How come?"

"Well, think about it this way. What if I left you home alone one day, and I told you not to leave the house. What would you do?"

"I wouldn't leave the house."

"What about if there was a fire. What would you do then?"

"A big fire?"

Gibbs inclined his head.

"I'd leave the house. I'd get burned down if I didn't!"

"Exactly. Your reason outweighed my instructions. I'm not perfect, Nuka. Sometimes I'm going to tell you to do things without understanding the situation all the way, and sometimes you're going to have to decide that it's okay to do things differently than I told you. Now, that's not to say that I want you to be disobedient. I don't. But if there's a reason you think what I'm telling you to do doesn't make logical sense and you wind up acting in a way that makes more sense to you, I'm not going to punish you."

"Okay."

"But," Gibbs continued. "That only works once. If you disobey me and when we talk about it we decide that what I had told you to do works better, then when that situation comes up again you should act the way I told you to. Understand?"

"No."

"What did I tell you when you hurt yourself before dinner?"

Nuka scrunched up his face in concentration. "Um… You said fear was how your body tells you that something could be dangerous, so when you feel scared you need to think real hard about what you're gonna do and make sure you're not gonna get hurt doing it."

"Correct. Now, since we hadn't had that talk before, you didn't get punished. But what if tomorrow, I told you that you could slide down that banister if you could do it without hurting yourself, but otherwise you needed to wait for me, and you slid down the banister and hurt yourself."

Nuka frowned at him. "That would be silly. I'd already know I couldn't do it."

"Exactly!" Gibbs replied. "In that case, you would be disobeying me, not because you didn't understand my instructions or didn't know better, but because you wanted to. In that case, I would punish you. Now, do you understand the difference?"

Nuka frowned a little, gently rolling his lower lip beneath his upper lip. Finally he looked up, a strangely triumphant look on his face. "You want me to think. You want me to think by myself how to do things right, and if I mess up in my thinking you won't punish me because if you do then I'd only ever think about how you would make me do things, not about how things should be done. But if I already know how a situation works and I do something that's against the rules just to do it, then I'm not thinking. Then I'm just being naughty."

"Precisely."

Nuka grinned.

"Now," Gibbs said. "Let's talk about what happened at dinner."

Nuka swallowed. He thought they just _had _talked about what happened at dinner.

"I don't want you punishing yourself again, understand?" Gibbs said. "If you think you've done something that warrants punishment, you come tell me about it, but you don't deal with the matter yourself. That's not your job, that's my job. If you punish yourself, that's like telling me that I'm no good at taking care of you."

"I didn't mean it like that!" Nuka said worriedly. "I like it here!"

Gibbs nodded once in acknowledgement but continued to speak. "Furthermore, you will not skip meals. Eating good, healthy meals is how you grow up big and strong. It's how you have energy to do things. Not eating when you're supposed to hurts your body, and I do not approve of you hurting yourself on purpose. Understand?"

Nuka nodded. "I won't do it again."

"Good." Gibbs stood up. "Now, how about you take a shower, change into some pajamas, and come downstairs. I'll find a book for us to read together before bedtime."

Nuka stood up. "You're not…upset…any more?"

"No," Gibbs said, smiling. "I'm not upset anymore."


	7. Chapter 7

Nuka stared nervously at the staircase. He had done what Gibbs said, showering and then putting on his PJ's, but now he was at a loss. Gibbs had told him to come downstairs, but Nuka knew that he couldn't slide down the banister. It wasn't safe. He'd done that once already. And he knew that Gibbs would be mad at him if he did it again. He frowned, chewing on his lower lip. What now?

He sat down on the top step, looking at the great expanse of space between this landing and the ground floor…and then he got an idea. Grinning, Nuka picked up his legs and then used his hands to push his bum off the top step. He landed on the one beneath it with a soft fwumph.

Cool.

He pushed off the next step, landing on the one below it. It was kinda like a slide, but not as fast.

He'd made it halfway down the staircase before Gibbs stepped into view. He peered up at Nuka, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "Very creative."

"It's fun, too," Nuka said, grinning.

"I'm glad you enjoy it," Gibbs said. "You could have asked me to come help you."

Oh. Whoops. He frowned, trying to gauge Gibbs' mood, and then decided that the man wasn't mad. His eyes weren't crinkled. Besides, he'd been smiling earlier. People who were mad didn't smile in that sort-of secret way. He continued his slow way down the stairs, grinning when he got to the bottom step. He put his good foot down, and then grabbed the railing and used it to hoist himself to his feet.

"I went down the stairs all by myself without hurting my leg."

"Well done. Come here."

Nuka eyed Gibbs suspiciously. Sometimes when Daddy said 'come here,' it was because Nuka was in trouble for something. Something he didn't know he'd done. He bit his lower lip, hard, and tasted blood in his mouth.

"Nuka? What's going through that head of yours?"

Nuka swallowed. "I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to what?" Gibbs asked, and then his eyes crinkled a bit. "Nuka, you're bleeding." He stepped forward, and Nuka stepped just as quickly away.

"I'm sorry!"

Gibbs stopped, reaching a hand up to gently massage his eyeballs. He gave Nuka a long look and then said, "I wasn't going to hit you. I was going to look at your lip."

"My-" Nuka touched his lower lip gently and then winced. "Oh."

"What made you nervous?" Gibbs asked.

"You stepped forward real quick."

"No, I mean before that. Why'd you start chewing on your lip in the first place?"

Nuka twisted the hem of his pajama shirt nervously in his hand. He didn't want to talk about this. He didn't want to tell Gibbs that he was naughty sometimes and didn't even know it. Not knowing you were naughty was worse than just being naughty.

"I thought maybe I was in trouble," Nuka said quietly.

"We talked about that upstairs, Nuka," Gibbs said. "I told you that I wasn't upset anymore."

"Not about that."

"About what, then?"

Nuka sighed. "I dunno."

"Nuka, talking things through only works if you actually tell me what's going through your mind. What did you think you were in trouble for?"

"I don't know! Honest! I just thought I was in trouble."

Gibbs' eyes furrowed together slightly. "You thought you were in trouble for not doing anything wrong?"

"I don't know what I did wrong! It's just you said 'come here' in a quiet voice and I thought I was in trouble and I don't know why."

Gibbs swallowed. "I wasn't saying 'come here' because you were in trouble, Nuka. I said 'come here' because I wanted to give you a piggy-back ride and I know you don't like people walking towards you too suddenly."

"Oh."

"I will never punish you without making sure you know first what you're in trouble for. I promise."

"Okay."

"Alright. Now come here."

Nuka eyed Gibbs warily, and then he took a step forward, and another, until he was standing within a foot of Gibbs. Gibbs crouched down in front of him, and, breathing a sigh of relief, Nuka hoisted himself up on top of Gibbs' back.

Gibbs stood up slowly, one hand wrapped around Nuka's good leg, and carted the boy with him into the living room. "Alright, Nuka. Do you like to read books with pictures or books with no pictures?"

"I'm not a real good reader," Nuka said. "I've never read a whole book. I'm better at math."

Gibbs laughed. "I was actually thinking that I'd read to you tonight."

"Well then how come you asked what I liked to read?"

"I misspoke," Gibbs replied. "I really meant to ask if you preferred having books with pictures or books without pictures read to you."

"Oh."

Gibbs waited for a further response, and when none was forthcoming he tapped Nuka lightly on the leg. "Which do you prefer?"

"I dunno."

"You don't know?"

"I haven't ever had a book read to me," Nuka said, "except in school. All the books in school have pictures."

"Hmm," Gibbs said. "Well, then, let's try reading one without pictures. It takes a little bit longer—it will take us a couple of nights to get through it—but at the very least, it'll be good for you to know the difference."

"Okay," Nuka said.

Gibbs crouched down in front of a bookcase and ran his thumb against the spines of the books. After a moment, he paused over a tome and tipped it out into his hand. Nuke tried to read the cover, but his eyes hadn't focused enough to make the words out before Gibbs was standing again. This time he moved to the couch. He deposited Nuka neatly on one of the couch cushions and sat down beside him.

"_The Adventures of Tom Sawyer_," Gibbs read off. "This was one of my favorite books when I was a kid. My dad read it to me for the first time when I was just about your age."

"Really?" Nuka asked. "Your dad used to read to you?"

"Every single night," Gibbs said. "No matter what. Even when he was mad, he made a point of reading to me. It was his way of saying that no matter what, we were still family."

Nuka bit his lower lip. He'd never had anyone say something like that to him before. For him, family had always been a conditional state of being. He thought it must be nice to be like Gibbs—to know that your dad would always be there for you.

Gibbs opened the book up. He'd said that he was reading a book without pictures, but Nuka saw that hadn't been entirely true. There was an illustration at the front of the chapter, and Nuka felt himself scooting closer to Gibbs so he could see it. Gibbs reached an arm around Nuka's shoulders and pulled him against Gibbs's chest. Nuka wasn't sure if he liked that much physical contact, and he was about to pull away, but then Gibbs began to read and his voice went all the way through Nuka's body. Instead of pulling away, Nuka felt himself relaxing against Gibbs.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: I had a lot of questions about Tony's role in this story and in Nuka's life, so I figured I'd throw a little bit of Tony into this chapter. Hope everyone likes it. **

Nuka woke up to the sun shining into his bedroom. He stretched his arms out over his head and looked around the room. _His _room, not someone's guest room or a mattress under Daddy's bed but a room all for Nuka. He hugged the thought to himself.

He could hear Gibbs moving around downstairs. Nuka thought that it was probably very early in the morning still. They'd gone to bed early last night—earlier than Nuka had ever gone to bed when he lived with Daddy—and for the first time in a long time Nuka had slept through the night. He felt good, really good.

He got up and made his bed, and then he fished through his drawers for some clean clothes. He found himself a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that was mostly not stained, and he carried them with him down the hall to the bathroom. It didn't take him long to wash up and get ready—Daddy had always given him a limited amount of time when he was a kid, and Nuka was used to getting ready in a hurry. When he was done, Nuka stowed his pajamas and went to the top of the stairs.

He wondered if the rule about not putting weight on his leg still applied. Honestly, Nuka thought that it was a bit silly—he'd had way worse injuries than that in his lifetime and nobody had made a fuss over it. His leg barely even hurt any more. Still, Nuka felt like he'd been pretty lucky staying out of trouble with Gibbs the night before, and he wasn't about to take his chances on their first full day together, especially when he'd already perfected a way of going down the stairs on his own. Sighing, Nuka sat down and slid down the stairs the way he had the night before.

He wandered into the kitchen. Gibbs was there, sipping a cup of coffee and reading the paper. Nuka bit his lip and hovered in the doorway, not knowing what he should do. Daddy always got upset if Nuka interrupted when he was reading the paper. Normally, Nuka wouldn't have needed to—he was okay with making his own breakfast—but he didn't know where any of Gibbs's things were. He hesitated a moment more and then stepped fully into the kitchen. He wandered over to one side and hopped up on the counter to check the cupboard above it.

"What are you doing?" Gibbs asked from behind his paper.

Nuka's stomach felt like it was twisting all over the place. "Looking for a bowl. For cereal."

"We don't have any cereal," Gibbs said.

Nuka frowned, his hand still on the cupboard. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to have now. Sometimes at home, Nuka cooked breakfast on the stove, but he only ever did that when Daddy told him to. Otherwise, he might accidentally use up ingredients that Daddy needed.

"Hop down," Gibbs said, folding his paper and setting it aside. "I'm going to make us breakfast. I was just waiting for you to get up so that I could ask if you preferred eggs or pancakes."

"Oh," Nuka said, sliding gently off of the counter.

"And so?"

Nuka gave Gibbs a wide berth as he went to sit at the table. "What?"

"Do you prefer eggs or pancakes?"

Nuka started to shrug—he ate anything; he'd never been allowed to be picky at home—but then he remembered the conversation he and Gibbs had the night before about Nuka communicating. He sighed and murmured, "I like eggs if they're over easy or pancakes if they have chocolate chips in them."

Gibbs thought about that a moment and then nodded. "Eggs it is." He got out a frying pan and turned on the stove. Nuka watched carefully in case he had to cook next time.

"So," Gibbs said, cracking an egg into the frying pan. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"

"I don't care," Nuka whispered. It had been hard enough choosing between eggs and pancakes; how was he supposed to choose when he didn't even know what the options were?

"Well, your uncle doesn't tend to be too picky, either, as long as someone else is cooking," Gibbs said. "But he's not a big fan of casseroles. He likes meat. So, let's see. We had steak last night. Do you want chicken tonight or pork?"

"Chicken," Nuka whispered. "My uncle… Do you mean Uncle Tony?"

"Yes," Gibbs said. "Why, is he hiding any other siblings that I don't know about?"

Nuka shrugged. He bit his lower lip and whispered, "Am I going back to Uncle Tony's?"

Gibbs turned and eyed Nuka for a moment. He sighed and shook his head, "No, Nuka. You're staying with me. We talked about that yesterday. Your uncle is coming over tonight to have dinner with us."

"Oh." Nuka watched as Gibbs slid eggs onto a plate and set them on the table. At a look from Gibbs, Nuka started to eat. He didn't know what to think about Uncle Tony coming to dinner that night. He knew that Uncle Tony wasn't Daddy—the social worker had said that, and Uncle Tony had said that, and Uncle Tony had never hurt Nuka. But that didn't mean that Nuka liked the man. He _looked _a lot like Daddy, which made Nuka itchy, and besides, he gave Nuka away. So why did Nuka have to keep seeing him? He watched Gibbs through his lashes: Gibbs had made himself a plate of eggs and was sitting across from Nuka, eating contentedly. Nuka chewed his lower lip for a moment and then dared whisper, "I like it when you and I eat together, just the two of us."

Gibbs looked at Nuka full-on then. His eyes were soft, almost as if he felt bad, but what he said was, "You and I are going to have lots of meals just the two of us, Nuka. But your Uncle Tony is part of our family, and sometimes it's good for our whole family to eat together. It keeps us close. Now hurry up and eat your breakfast, and then we can go downstairs and start working on making that toy box."

"Yes, sir," Nuka choked out. Gibbs's lips pursed together, but he didn't say anything.

"There's silverware in that drawer," Gibbs said, pointing with the butt of his spatula. "And napkins are in the panty. Can you set the table, please?"

Nuka nodded. Gibbs had already set plates, cups, and placemats in a pile on the counter. Nuka carefully went about setting the table for three. He still didn't understand why Uncle Tony had to be here. Gibbs said Uncle Tony was part of their family, but that didn't make sense to Nuka. Gibbs was Uncle Tony's boss—they weren't related. And yeah, he was Nuka's uncle, but Nuka didn't care about that, so why should Gibbs?

He had just finished setting the table when he heard Uncle Tony's car pull into the driveway. Nuka tensed, his eyes darting towards the door. He heard Uncle Tony's footsteps on the stairs, and every muscle in his body pulled tight. He could barely breathe. The door opened, and Uncle Tony came in looking just like Daddy. Gibbs turned and smiled and the two men hugged, and it was all Nuka could do not to sick up on the spot.

And then the men turned towards Nuka. Nuka could feel both of their eyes on him: Tony's assessing and Gibbs's expectant.

"Come say hello to you uncle," Gibbs said gently.

Nuka couldn't open his mouth, much less say anything. He stared ahead, blankly, his heart drumming in his chest.

"Nuka," Gibbs said a bit more firmly.

"Boss, it's okay," Uncle Tony said.

Nuka saw Gibbs's eyes flash angrily. He could barely breathe. Gibbs shot Uncle Tony a look, and then turned back to Nuka. "Nuka, say hello to your uncle."

But Nuka couldn't hear. He saw Gibbs take a step towards him, and he panicked. A strangled, "No!" ripped from his throat and he turned and ran away from both of them, up the stairs to his room. He slammed the door behind him and sat against it, his breathing heavy.

"Wow," Tony breathed back in the kitchen. "Good to know I'm not the only one who makes him react like that." When Gibbs didn't reply, Tony said, "Are you mad?"

"Yes," Gibbs ground out. "I'm mad."

"Well, don't be too hard on him," Tony said. "I mean, he's just a kid, and he was clearly scared to death."

"I'm not bad at _him_," Gibbs snarled. "I'm mad at _you."_

"Me? What did I—"

"If you _ever_ undermine my authority like that in front of him again, you will wind up spending a month sorting cold cases, do you understand?" Gibbs spat.

"I wasn't trying to undermine your authority," Tony said. "Honest, Boss. I just didn't think there needed to be a big scene about whether or not he said hi to me. I mean, he clearly doesn't like me."

"I don't like Mondays, but unfortunately, they come around once in a while," Gibbs said. "I don't care how much he doesn't like you, he's perfectly capable of saying hello. I wasn't asking him to hug you—I wasn't even asking him to shake your hand. He is capable of being polite, and if I am to raise this boy, then he _will _be, and I won't have anyone butting their noses in. Not even you, Tony."

Tony was pale. He sighed and nodded once. "Yes, Boss. I understand."

"Good," Gibbs said. "Now watch the chicken while I go up and speak to him."


End file.
